


Yuri!!! on Dragons

by Aurum_Auri



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Dragon Riders, Dragons, Ficlet Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 20:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12872727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurum_Auri/pseuds/Aurum_Auri
Summary: Dragon eggs hatch only for those with the strongest hearts, the fiercest beliefs, and the deepest love.A collection of the ficlets I've posted in my dragon rider AU. Tags added as they become relevant.





	1. The Pink Egg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor is tested

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A series of ficlets I've been posting on my tumblr and twitter! Find the first at https://aurum-auri.tumblr.com/post/167460985216/the-pink-egg and the rest can be found by clicking through the post's hyperlinks

“They say dragons can see the strength of your heart,” Victor’s mother always told him. “That’s why they give their eggs to the people with the strongest hearts, the deepest love, and the greatest potential. A dragon needs love to grow, you see, and a dragon without love is no dragon at all.”

Watching the white beast track across the winter sky, robes billowing around a rider clinging close, Victor thought he understood. The two flew as one. They understood each other as no one else ever could. It was the purest form of love, the kind without a name, deep as the seas and as wide as the skies. Victor only dreamed of the same.

The dragon circled. The beat of its wings slowed its descent. Victor watched in wonder as it dropped its altitude. It circled once more, and Victor realized it was flying right towards him. He stumbled backward in shock, eyes wide as the dragon grew larger and larger the closer it drew.

The whooshing sound of its wings through the air became almost thunderous, and suddenly they flared out on either side of it, grey as the skies, slightly darker than the crystalline white body. The wings fluttered, and it landed gracefully before him, sending snow flying in every direction.

Victor’s legs gave out. He fell into the powder.

It was massive, probably as big as Victor’s whole house. It bent low, its head as large as Victor’s whole body. With a start, he realized that the rider was standing up. The person was bundled thickly in furs, completely obscuring their figure, but they looked large and rather thickly built. The rider took a step off and dropped to the snow beside the dragon, landing in a crouch. The figure straightened up.

When they pulled down the mask on their face, Victor saw it was a man with a thick beard. “Hmph. Not much to look at,” the man said in a gruff voice.

Victor scrambled to his feet and puffed out his chest. “I’ll be 8 soon,” he said, and then, after a beat, “Uhh, he’s not going to eat me, is he?” His eyes skated over to the massive dragon. Its eyes were nearly white, they were such a pale hue of silver, glittering around a massive, slitted pupil. The eye nearest to him rolled in the socket until it was looking at Victor. An amused huff of cool air rolled from its snout.

“Don’t be daft, child,” the man said. “Are you a sheep?”

“Are you a sheep?” Victor fired back, insulted by the question.

The man let out a sharp huff, almost like a brief laugh. “Sharp. I like it.” The man patted the dragon’s snout. “Maybe there’s something in you after all.”

“I don’t want to be rude,” Victor said. He tipped his chin up, trying not to seem frightened. “But, why are you talking to me? Don’t you have better things to be doing?”

The man found this hilarious, laughing until he almost couldn’t breath. Even the dragon let out a light chuckle. Frost curled in the air around its muzzle, and Victor took a step back. Ice dragons had a breath that was colder than the most bitter winter wind, and it could freeze a man where he stood. Victor wasn’t taking any chances.

“I had a mission, but I might have just finished it. Tell me, boy, have you ever seen a dragon egg before?” Victor went very still, shaking his head slowly. The man wasn’t serious, surely he wasn’t saying what Victor thought he was saying. The corner of the man’s lips quirked up. “Would you like to?”

Victor’s mouth gaped. “Y-you’re joking.”

“Climb aboard, and we’ll see if you have the mettle to hatch a dragon egg, boy.”

“Victor,” Victor said suddenly. He was dizzy. “My name is Victor.” He took the man’s hand and was helped up onto the back of the dragon. Its spines were like icicles. The man sat in front of him.

“Yakov Feltsman,” the man replied. “And this is Bogatyr.”

“That’s a stupid name,” Victor said.

“Don’t make me leave you behind, boy,” Yakov warned. Victor wisely shut his mouth. The man riffled through his saddlebags and came out with a thick pile of fur. He threw it over his shoulder at Victor. “Wrap yourself in that. It’s colder in the skies.”

Victor barely had time to throw the furs over his shoulder before the Bogatyr spread his wings and pushed off the ground, sending up a spray of snow behind him.

Yakov was right. It was freezing up in the air, but it was magical to peer over the sides of the dragon, looking around the gliding wings and watching the ground shrink beneath them. As far as Victor could see, there was a winter wasteland, blinding and white.

In only a few rushing wing beats, they had left Victor’s small town behind. Yakov and Bogatyr angled north, and it grew colder and colder by the minute. In the distance, Victor could see mountains slowly growing the closer they got.

After what felt like hours of flying, the mountains were all Victor could see. They continued, up and up, until at last, Victor caught a glimpse of color. A brilliant red dragon was circling the skies. As soon as it caught sight of them, it changed directions, flying right toward them.

It drew up beside them, rumbling happily, and Bogatyr rumbled something back. Love, Victor realized. It was his mate. They flew until Victor could see a small cottage nestled beside an open cave. Sprays of icicles coated the walls and ceilings of the cave, bristling it in the most beautiful of ways. A curl of smoke rose from the cottage’s chimney.

The red dragon let out a bellowing roar as they landed. A woman stepped out of the cave.

She was leaner, less heavily bundled up, severe through the cheeks and eyes. She clucked her tongue at Yakov.

“You’re late.”

Yakov grumbled something under his breath that Victor couldn’t hear. To the woman, he said, “Bogatyr says he’s the one.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” the woman said, turning to face Victor.

Yakov gave him a little push, and Victor slid indelicately down Bogatyr’s flank, landing in a heap in the snow. It was waist deep around him, and he shivered violently. The woman waded up to him, graceful even in the deep powder. She took his chin and jerked it this way and that.

“Hmm. He’ll do, I suppose. What do you think?” She turned to the red dragon beside her. The dragon gave Victor a short sniff, before she nodded, exhaling a burst of warm air over Victor. “Bring him in, then.”

Without another word, the woman turned and returned into the cave. Victor followed her trail, using the path she’d carved already to make it inside.

There was shelter from the harsh winds within, but it was colder than before, bone deep and making Victor shiver. His teeth had been chattering for hours. Now he wondered if he’d ever be warm again.

She led him back, the sinuous red dragon following close behind him. Her breath was warm at his back, and it helped in small ways to keep Victor from freezing to death. Victor halted.

At the back of the cave, there was a massive nest. Bits of glittering, golden treasure were frozen inside it, and it prickled with tiny icicles like thorns. The whole thing was beautiful to see. And nestled in the center, inside a pile of rock-shaped hunks of ice, was a perfect, soft pink egg.

The outside of it was iridescent, glittering with frost. Bogatyr came inside behind them, letting out a breath of cold air over the egg. The pink color lightened slightly.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” the woman asked. “Touch it.”

Victor’s legs nearly gave out. This was a chance many would kill for. He stumbled forward, and he held out his hand. It was huge, almost half as tall as he was, only slightly more slender than it was tall. He hesitated briefly, then touched it.

The surface of the egg was colder than anything he’d ever felt before, and his fingers froze to the surface on contact. Panic seized him. He jerked his hand back, but it was held fast. He yelped, trying to get free, when suddenly the air rang out.

There was a sharp cracking sound, and Victor went deadly still.

There, in the surface of the egg, was a fracture, slim, but unmistakable. It was hatching.


	2. The Hatchling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor's egg opens to reveal a stunning infant dragon. But nothing is ever simple.

The eggshell fractured like breaking glass, and Victor heard a soft croak from within.

He looked to the dragon nearest to him, the massive, white-scaled behemoth that barely squeezed inside the cave. Bogatyr looked upon his offspring with the proudest gaze in his eyes, warm despite the cold, carved-from-ice quality of his face.

Victor felt a sudden wave of jealousy. The egg darkened, and Victor’s eyes snapped back to it in fear. “No no, come on, come on out,” Victor whispered. The egg slowly softened back to soft rose-pink hues, and Victor chewed his lower lip in awe.

Another fracture spiderwebbed along the surface. Something poked through the top, pointed and sharp. The two dragons began to hum, rumbling with a low musicality that Victor could feel in his bones. Victor tried to join, but his voice was too high to match the song. He murmured soft encouragement to the hatchling, begging it to come out. He could barely speak.

Reverence stole his tongue as the creature finally emerged. It was messy and wet with the contents of its egg, something quickly resolved with a few swipes from its mother’s tongue. Victor almost couldn’t breathe.

He’d hatched it. He’d hatched a dragon egg. Standing before him on shaky legs, there was a hatchling the size of a large dog, its scales leathery-looking and soft, colored like the fresh pink petals of a flower. It looked up at him. Its eyes were large and silvery-white like its father’s. Something in Victor’s world tilted.

“She’s beautiful,” he breathed. She gave a few hesitant beats of her wings and croaked, blinking at him. She almost seemed to be smiling.

“Isn’t she?” the woman breathed, and Victor could have sworn he almost saw the hints of a smile.

“No matter how many eggs you see hatch, it never loses that feeling, does it?” Yakov mumbled, and even he looked a little awed. “She needs a name. Feel free to sleep on it, boy, but don’t wait too long. Give her a good, strong name. Something that suits her, alright?”

Victor nodded in wonder. The little dragonling hobbled forward toward Victor. She nuzzled at his hand, her scaled muzzle soft under his fingers.

Victor’s heart soared.

“The letter, Lilia,” Yakov said.

The woman clucked her tongue at him. “Everything in its proper time.” But she still reached into her coat and pulled out a thick, parchment envelope sealed with a wax crest. She extended it to Victor. “Your parents will need to know what is expected of you, having hatched this egg, and what accommodations they should be prepared in the town-”

VIctor’s shoulders fell. “… Oh, right. Sure. I’ll make sure they… get it.” He took the letter just as the hatchling stumbled forward, butting up against Victor’s free hand. A little smile broke over his lips.

“How will we get home?” Victor asked, gazing back at the mouth of the cave. The howling wind kicked up snow at the entrance, making it almost impossible to see more than a few feet outside. But even if the wind hadn’t been viciously swirling, it wouldn’t have been possible to make out Victor’s town far, far in the distance.

The little dragon hatching croaked at him again, and Victor pulled her into his arms. She seemed to like when he scratched her behind the ears, right above the frill around her neck. She was so beautiful she hurt to look at, a precious thing with pink scales fading to a dusky rose at the edges of her wings. Tiny horns poked out the top of her skull.

“She’ll fly,” Lilia said. “She might be too small to ride, but every dragon must have their first flight, and there’s no better time to learn than now. “

“What? So soon?” Victor sputtered. He hugged her close. Outside the cave, just past the cottage, there was a sheer cliff face. Victor couldn’t imagine they’d push the hatchling off the edge, but from the determined look on Lilia’s face… “She only just hatched!”

Lilia strode out of the cave with her shoulders back, not looking to see if anyone followed.

Unconcerned, the hatchling rooted around Victor’s clothes, sniffing him and exploring with tiny claws. Bogatyr nosed at the hatchling, pushing both her and Victor toward the cave’s entrance. There was no choice but to go.

Victor saw Lilia emerge from the cottage with a small burlap sack in hand. “This is how we will train,” she said. She reached inside and pulled out a large, brilliantly red apple. “Zmeya, fly,” she commanded, tossing an apple in the air.

The red dragon burst from the cave, flying hard and fast to snap the apple up and plunge off the cliff. Victor stumbled to the edge, watching in wonder as the red dragon snapped her wings out and started to glide outward, circling on an updraft to land beside them once more.

Lilia passed Victor a few apples, and he struggled to juggle them in his arms. The hatchling never took her eyes off her mother until Victor worked one into his hand. “I just… feed her one? She’ll eat apples?” he asked doubtfully.

“Dragons will eat many of the same things you will. The prefer sheep and goats, of course, and meat in general, but enjoy small treats such as fruits on occasion.”

Victor stared at the dragon doubtfully, but offered her one of the apples all the same. The hatchling studied it inquisitively for a moment, giving it a hesitant nip before suddenly snapping it up whole. She crunched noisily at it, spattering juice into the snow, making happy huurrring sounds as she did so.

Victor laughed and offered another, tossing it up into the air. The small dragon hopped left and right, bounding in the snow before leaping upward to snap it up. It bounced off her nose and landed in the snow piles. She dove in after it, coming up covered in powder and smacking her jaws delightedly.

“Now throw one off the edge,” Yakov said.

Victor froze. The hatching was still hopping around him, happy as a lark. Victor’s gaze rolled out over the cliffside where Zmeya had demonstrated. The sheer cliff face fell down, down, down, hundreds of feet. At the foot of the cliffs, the snowy ground was dotted with slate colored rocks jutting out, threatening death if one should happen to fall.

Victor was going to be sick. “I- I can’t-” he sputtered, holding the apples close. The hatchling tried to nose one out of his hands, and he turned away. “What if she doesn’t make it, what if something happens?”

“Then that’s life,” Yakov said harshly. “She will never fly if you have doubts in her. Believe that she can, and she will find a way, it is that simple. Trust in yourself as much as you trust in her. It is the only advice we can give you. The rest is up to her.”

Victor glanced down at the menacing cliff face, then at the cheerful pink dragon hopping around him, rooting for access to the apples. She’d swiped one when he wasn’t looking, and now she knew there were more.

Victor pressed his cheek into her neck, wrapping an arm around her. “I believe in you,” he said. “Please, please be okay.”

Victor closed his eyes, pulling out another apple. He waved it around to catch her eye. After a moment, her full attention was on him. Her wings pulsed lightly in the air, tail lashing at the snow. Such an innocent little thing.

Victor winced, and he tossed the apple over the side. The hatchling didn’t hesitate, pitching herself off the edge.

Victor dropped the apples and threw himself at the edge. He had to see. He had to know, even if the result was a smear of crimson below. His breath caught. “Open your wings,” he cried. “Please, please, you can do it.”

She twisted in the sky, wriggling helplessly, and Victor let out an anguished scream.

She was falling.


	3. The First Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor's hatching faces either certain death or the freedom of the skies

She was falling.

A terrible, animal scream ripped out of Victor’s throat as he watched her plunge toward her death. She squirmed and writhed, helpless in the grip of the wind as she fell faster and faster. Everything felt like it was slowing down.

Her body turned in the air, and she strained to open her wings. The buffeting knocked them back, flailing like streamers. She pulled them in, making helpless sounds. Victor didn’t know how to help her. He couldn’t do anything.

“You can do it!” Victor cried, cupping his hands around his mouth. All he could do was believe, right?

He closed his eyes, dreading the distant thump of a body on snow, but hoping, hoping as desperately hard as he could for a miracle.

He heard a sound like air catching, and Victor opened his eyes. Her wings were spread, filled with air. She used her tail as a rudder to angle herself into a dive. She was falling fast. Too fast. “Up, up!” Victor screamed. His voice was hoarse.

She was the only spot of color amongst the sea of snow, and she was impossible to miss with her wings spread wide, pulling her body up. Victor held his breath.

Suddenly she was flying forward, her descent slowing, and in a blink she was rising once more, her wings flapping hard against the air. Victor cried out in joy.

She labored against the sky. Updrafts plucked her gracelessly into the air, sending her spinning. It took her long seconds to figure out how to use them to save on flapping her wings, to let them push her up instead of forcing her way up.

But once she understood, she was making wild sweeps through the sky, chirping happily. Victor screamed and cheered, spinning wild circles with his arms thrown in the air. On either side of him, the dragons burst into happy hums, taking to the sky to fly beside their little offspring. Victor’s cheeks were wet, and he realized he was crying. He felt a hand fall on his shoulder.

“You see, nothing to worry about,” Yakov said.

Lilia swatted him. “Don’t bite your nails. Disgusting habit.”

Yakov dismissed her with a gruff harrumph. He pulled on a pair of riding gloves and whistled. The white dragon circled and moved to land beside them. “Come on, then, boy. You’ve got your letter, then?”

Victor patted it in his coat pocket and nodded. The hatchling landed in an awkward sprawl in the snow, tumbling head over tail a few times before springing up, croaking happily. She dove towards the apples Victor had dropped. Victor’s heart swelled to see her crunching them joyfully in her jaws. He fell to his knees, hugging her close. He buried his face in the frill around her throat. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispered.

She paused eating her apples just long enough to briefly nuzzle him back. Victor closed his eyes. She was cool to the touch, not as cold as the air, but cooler than flesh should be.

Her body was slightly larger than the borzois that Victor’s neighbor kept, and her wings, when spread, were longer across than she was from nose to tail. She was the perfect size for Victor to wrap his arms around, and to be wrapped up in wings in return. A gentle rumbling built in her chest. Victor felt warm.

Was this what it felt like to finally have a friend? He could feel the weight of her love like a tangible thing, a pressure on his chest that held him like a warm embrace. He finally had a friend. He finally had happiness. But it was more than that. Holding her close, Victor finally had a dream.

And maybe, just maybe, his father would finally see him as something other than a disappointment.


End file.
